


ink and alice

by dizzy



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Strangers to Friends, band au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: Dan joins a band instead of going to university, and then he meets Phil.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 44
Kudos: 261
Collections: Phandom Fic Fests Holiday Exchange 2019





	ink and alice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snsk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/gifts).



> somewhere out there lucy lives  
> with blackness smudged between her fingertips  
> she's got clouds in her eyes and the moon in the sky  
> and fountain wells that all run dry
> 
> somewhere out there lucy is cold  
> with a view of trees as they lose their leaves  
> and yellow cars that roam the streets  
> but diamonds all start with coal
> 
> Newspaper Taxis, Ink and Alice

Dan's never really had a plan in his life, but even in his daydreams this isn't how his life went. In his more optimistic moments he used to imagine himself going to uni and having some sort of swanky, impressive job like lawyer or president of a business. And yeah, maybe that was more about making his family happy and proud of him than anything else, but dreams are dreams. In his more realistic moments he imagined himself trying and failing, slinking back home after dropping out of uni or just living in a cardboard box on the street. 

Instead, his life is this: plunking his fingers down on a keyboard night after night, sleeping in a van or a cheap hotel, scribbling lyrics on fast food napkins. 

Then those lyrics turn into songs and those songs get played on stage to growing crowds of people and Dan thinks _fuck it_ to any plan, this is what he wants his life to be even if just for right now.

*

Even aside from the serotonin boost of a live audience, he does like being in a band. His bandmates aren't total divs, he never has to stay in one place long enough for it to feel claustrophobic, and he likes feeling useful and like he's contributing to something. 

He didn't help start the band but they needed a keyboard player and he was in his gap year and knew how to play well enough. 

They also needed better songs. They didn't ask Dan to help with that, but he did anyway. He's too controlling to want to play music he doesn't like. 

Luckily for Dan and for the band, it turns out everyone likes his songs better. They rarely even play anything off that first Dan-less album anymore.

He likes the attention. He likes all the eyes on him. It feels good, like a distraction from all the things he doesn't want to think about. 

There are a lot of things he doesn't want to think about. They just... all seem to disappear when the music starts. It doesn't matter that his parents think he's making irresponsible choices or that he got an unconditional from Manchester and turned it down or that even with growing success the band isn't technically making money yet. They're breaking even, and that's fucking brilliant if you ask Dan because it means he can keep doing this and put off worrying about the future. 

*

Phil's first show is an accident. 

The lighting and audio technician for the club they're playing at no-shows and the DJ that opened up the set says his little brother can do that sort of thing. 

They're an hour late going on but 'little brother' comes through. 

They don’t even properly meet him until later, but it doesn’t matter. They don’t have any sort of standard lighting setup that’s worth anything anyway. They tell him he can do what he wants, so Phil does exactly that. 

And it works. 

It works so well that the crowd ends up screaming as much over the bouncing and beat of the lights as they do the music itself. 

It becomes a show as much as a concert and when their set ends Andy looks at Dan with exhilaration all over his sweaty face and says, "That was fucking incredible." 

Dan can't disagree. He’s sure the grin is wide on his face when he looks over and finds an eager face beaming back. For a second their eyes meet and his mouth goes dry, then Dan looks away. 

*

Phil doesn't join them right away. 

After the Manchester show, they have Nottingham then Glasgow and Bristol. 

Then they have a break. 

Dan doesn't really want the break. He hates that space of time when one tour ends before the next begins. He hates it because it always ends with him and Andy on a train headed back to Wokingham. 

Andy doesn't mind so much. Andy actually likes his parents. He actually misses them when he's been away for a month or two. 

Dan doesn't. Dan wishes he were like one of the other guys in the band. They share a shitty flat with like five other guys. They don't even have bedrooms since they're gone so much, they sleep on mattresses on the floor, and the sink is always full of dirty dishes and the table's always full of beer cans and weed. The fact that it sounds appealing to Dan is a testament to how much he truly fucking hates going home. 

To begin with, he thought Andy understood. They've been mates for years; Andy knows what sort of hell Dan went through in school. He was there, he had to know, right? 

Maybe not. Because Andy says the same things Dan does - about how shit college was and how glad he is to be leaving - but over the past months spent together Dan's come to realize that Andy really doesn't mean it at all. 

And Andy doesn't think Dan does, either. Andy seems to have developed amnesia about all the punches Dan got, and the slurs shouted at him, the words scrawled in permanent marker in the front of his binders if he left them unattended, the way everyone just talked about Dan like they had a reason to hate him. 

To Andy it was all just fun and games. Just lads being lads. Andy's even talking about meeting up with some of those people during the weeks they're home, asking Dan like he thinks Dan will want to as well. 

Dan says he thinks he'll be busy, his mum and nana will probably want to see him loads, his dad mentioned a trip. Excuses fly off his tongue like practiced lies and he really hates exactly how practiced they are.

*

He spends most of the first week at home writing songs. Most of them will never see the light of day. He shows maybe ten percent of what he writes to the rest of the band and not even all of them make it to the stage. Jace and Benny do most of the music, working with his lyrics to build them into a song.

Dan loves sitting back and hearing that. It makes him want to do that one day, learn how to play every single instrument and somehow develop a better singing voice. Maybe he'll do voice lessons once they're making some actual money. 

See, he does have plans. Just... very intangible ones that seem locked away behind some glass wall he can't find the door to. 

*

He and Andy take the train in for the first band meeting since the tour ended. He knows from their group text that Benny's already lining up venues for the next go around, and that everyone wants more of Dan's lyrics. 

There will also be talk of money and of how to go about the t-shirt designs for the next one and if they have enough money and enough songs to put out a new EP. Dan's trying, he's trying as hard as he can to pay attention to the business sort of things. They aren't even having the meeting in an actual rehearsal space, just the flat. 

The tension loosens from his shoulders the closer the train gets to Camden. The flat is up four flights of stairs in a building and they can hear the noise spilling out of the door from the end of the hall. 

It smells like pot and pizza and a little bit of BO but Dan drops into the sofa gratefully, feeling like he can breathe for the first time in days. 

Then he notices the guy sitting in the chair across from Dan - shaggy black hair and pale skin and a beaky nose. Dan sits up a little straighter. He's not sure why this guy pings his anxiety in a way that Benny and Anthony's roommates usually don’t. 

"Dan, Andy, you remember Phil, yeah?" Jace says. "Martyn Lester's little brother." 

Phil laughs. "I might as well change my name to that." 

"Oh-" Jace laughs, too. "Sorry, mate. I mean... Martyn's a bit of a legend, though." 

"Yeah, it's fine," Phil says, waving his hand. He doesn't really seem that bothered. "He got all the musical ability." 

"Yeah but he's not wicked with the lighting like you are, mate," Benny says, dropping between Andy and Dan on the sofa. 

"And that," Jace says, "Is why Phil's here. We've been chatting a bit since Manchester and Phil's done with uni now so he's looking for a gig. The videos from that show he worked for us got the most traction on youtube and myspace, so I thought - why the fuck not, man?" 

"Why not?" Dan asks. "Why not what?" 

"Why not bring him on! We need a fucking thing, you know?" Ant's hands get more animated as he talks. "And he's our thing! No one else doing our tour circuit has lighting like that. He made 'em fucking dance, man." 

Phil's actually blushing. "Mar just told me to play around and have fun with it." 

"That's even cooler! You just gotta do that to all our tunes." Andy keeps going, rambling enthusiastically. 

They don't even get around to looking at Dan's lyrics before Andy has to catch a train back for his granddad's birthday party. Dan feels a weird twist in his gut at leaving sooner than everyone else - a strange anxiety about missing out, about how he still feels like he's someone the band babysits sometimes. 

It's not true. He knows how to play the keyboard well. He knows his lyrics are good. But he can't even read sheet music. He can't play any other instruments. 

Does he have plans or just dreams? What if this new guy can write songs too? 

Dan's wound up tight by the time he's on the train back home and he doesn't work the knots in his stomach loose for the rest of the month of meetings and rehearsals.

*

Phil's not actually bad, Dan learns, over snippets of conversation - more overheard than engaged in - in that rehearsal month. 

He's got a flat in Manchester but he's sleeping on a friend's couch in London. She comes to the rehearsal once, toward the end, a blonde with pink streaks in her hair. 

(Dan wonders if they’re sleeping together, if that’s Phil’s type. Doesn’t seem like it would be, but sometimes people surprise you.)

He learns that Phil likes anime just like Dan does and his favorite band is Muse just like Dan's is. Martyn is his only sibling and his mum rings him every day and he doesn't like cheese. 

But Dan doesn't really get to know much else about him until the tour starts, and then suddenly he knows way too much. 

*

They don't have a tour bus so much as a tour van with a trailer hitched to the back that holds their gear. 

Ant's mate Kurt rides along with them, a roadie and sometimes their opening act. Kurt and Jace usually swap off driving in shifts. Dan likes to sit in the very back, because Kurt's a twat who likes to leer at women in other cars and though there's no open hostility, he still has a way of making Dan feel exactly like he used to feel back in school. 

Benny and Andy usually take the middle row and Dan huddles in the back next to a pile of snacks, exactly where he's most comfortable being. 

But this time Phil slides into the back with him. He gives Dan an apologetic look, like he's aware he's invading the sacred personal bubble Dan has. 

It's even worse when he says, "I need the window." 

Dan's sure he doesn't look too pleased with that. He scoots over and jams his headphones into his ears and lets his head rest against the flaking material of the seat back. 

It's going to be a long first drive. 

*

Turns out Phil wasn't kidding about needing the window, and by the time they pull off for their first meal break Dan's glad he didn't put up more of a fight. Phil looks pale in a sickly way and there's sweat on his forehead. 

"You're not ill, are you?" Dan asks. 

The last thing he wants is to start off tour feeling poorly. 

"Yeah," Phil says. They're waiting for the others to load out first so they can scoot around the seat in front of them. "I mean, no." 

"Um,” Dan says. 

"It's not contagious," Phil says, trying again. "Don't worry. I'm just carsick." 

"Oh."

The seat in front of them folds forward for them to climb out but Phil just sits there for a few seconds more, shaking and drawing in uneven breaths. 

Dan stays too, not because he wants to, but because he's trapped by Phil... unless he wants to climb over Phil, which he doesn't. Want. Also, isn't even sure he could do. They've both got a bit too much leg for that. 

Phil finally moves, getting up and then almost falling out of the van. Dan reaches halfway for him then pulls his hands back, because he doesn't want Phil to get the wrong idea. He doesn't want anyone to get the wrong idea, he's had enough wrong ideas and how people react to them to last him a lifetime. 

Phil seems okay, though. He finds his footing and gulps in fresh air. Dan watches him for just a second before he walks past Phil into the restaurant. 

*

There is no show that night. 

It's like a gift to themselves, a first night to get reacquainted to a traveling lifestyle, to get a full night's sleep and jump into the first proper day of tour tomorrow, to start off on the best and calmest foot possible. 

Hah. 

It's a night to get wasted off their tits and enjoy being hungover in a hotel room that they don't have to immediately leave. 

*

Dan isn't sure he ever had real freedom until the first tour. 

Yeah, his parents didn't give a shit half the time and let him wander off whenever as a teenager but then they'd randomly decide to care when it came to things like him having a job and whether or not he'd decided what he wanted to go to uni for and when they thought he swore too much. That wasn't freedom, not really; that was Dan knowing that he was just living life moving from one box someone else had him in to another. 

But this... tour life? That's freedom. There's a schedule, sure, but it's because of something Dan's actively choosing to do. If he stood up tomorrow and said he'd changed his mind and he'd rather not - the guys would be upset but they couldn't stop him. 

They don't have control over him. They don't have power over him. They can't _hurt_ him. Not like that. 

So if he would rather spend the night in a room alone, that’s his choice. 

*

That’s exactly what he does, lies alone in a hotel room bed staring up at the ceiling. He doesn't even know who he's sharing with tonight. He'd grabbed a key while the rest of the guys fled to the bar. It doesn’t actually matter, they won’t be back until late. 

The van rides always exhaust him most. He's glad the other guys are going out. He wants to soak in some silence, to be all by himself. He takes a shower that's long and hot and he brushes his teeth and he puts on pajamas and he grabs his laptop. 

It feels like sinking into his own skin again. All he really does is scroll reddit on his ancient massive laptop but the tension bleeds from his bones with every minute that ticks by that he doesn't have to keep his mind on alert for someone wanting some sort of interaction from him. 

And then... barely half an hour into his evening of solitude... 

The door opens. 

"Oh-" Phil stops short. "I thought everyone had gone out." 

"Obviously not," Dan says. 

He doesn't mean for it to sound so sharp but he's just surprised. 

Phil flinches a bit. 

Dan's mum always says he's too blunt. 

"Sorry. They gave me this key. They've already left, but I can..." Phil trails off. He clearly doesn't know what he can do. 

Dan doesn't really either. 

"Why didn't you go with them?" Dan asks. 

"I feel so ill from the van that I didn't want to drink anything," Phil says. 

"What were you doing, then? It's been ages," Dan says. His mum also says he's too nosy. 

Phil doesn't seem to mind. "Rung my mum," he says. "She's worried about me going off with a bunch of strangers." 

"Aren't you like, twenty five or something?" Dan asks. 

"Twenty three," Phil says, dropping his bag and sitting on the bed. He kicks his shoes off and just leaves them there on the floor. "How old are you? Jace said you and Andy were a bit younger?"

"I'm almost nineteen," Dan says. 

It's April and his birthday is in June. Close enough. 

"Why aren't you at uni?" 

Suddenly Dan understands his mum's complaints more. 

Being on the other end of blunt and nosy isn't very fun. Not like he hasn't been asked this for the whole past year though. Especially every time he goes home. 

"I was on gap year," he says. "And then I joined the band. I may go back later." 

That's what he always says. It appeases most people in Wokingham. Sometimes they start talking about sewing their own oats or adventures they had in their youth. 

It always feels patronizing to Dan. 

"You don't think this will work out?" Phil asks, sounding surprised. 

Dan shrugs. "Most bands don't." 

"But you're good," Phil says. "I've listened to your first two albums loads, and the rehearsal recordings of your new set are brilliant." 

"Why would you listen to them that much?" Dan asks. "Sucking up?" 

He doesn't even know what he means by that. He just knows he's being a prick and he can't stop. 

"To do the lighting setup," Phil says. 

"Oh," Dan says. "Right." 

Phil yawns widely. "You've showered, yeah? Mind if I have a go?" 

Dan wonders what Phil would do if Dan said yes, he minded. 

Instead he shrugs. "Go ahead." 

*

He can't really relax again, knowing Phil will come back out any moment. 

He tries to tell himself it's because he's upset he won't be alone and not because Phil didn't take any clothes into the shower which means Phil's going to be coming back out of the shower with just a towel on and the thought of that makes Dan's stomach churn and his mouth go dry. 

Discomfort, he tells himself. 

Because Phil's a naked boy. 

And Dan's not a boy who lets himself be alone in a room with other boys who aren't wearing clothes. 

He's not. He's just not.

He turns the volume on his computer up until the music pouring through his headphones drowns out the sound of the water running. 

*

Phil's back is a long stretch of milky pale that Dan jerks his eyes away from almost as immediately as he realizes he’s staring at it.

"Sorry," Phil says, laughing awkwardly as he grabs his bag and takes it back into the bathroom with him. 

Dan's face burns. 

*

He's afraid that Phil might want to make conversation, but to his relief Phil just gets into the other bed and pulls out a laptop, too. It's much nicer than Dan's, sleek and silver with an Apple logo glowing on the front.

Phil doesn't put headphones in. At one point Dan pauses his music just to check and see. Phil seems to be typing. Dan wants to look over, just to see what he can see, but he doesn't. 

He doesn't want to get caught staring. 

This is so much easier with the other guys. The older guys tend to just come in and pass out. Andy's familiar enough to Dan that it just feels like a really extended school trip. He wouldn’t say he enjoys it, but familiarity breeds less anxiety sometimes. 

He can't even remember just hanging out in a room with any of them when sleep or getting ready wasn't the immediate task at hand for them, if not Dan. 

Maybe he should have gone drinking after all. 

Phil shuts his laptop and looks over at Dan. Dan almost jumps. "Do you mind if I turn the television on?" Phil asks. 

"Um," Dan says. "Go ahead." 

Phil turns it on and starts to flip through the stations so quickly that Dan's immediately annoyed. How can Phil even tell what's on when he's going so fast? 

Then the television stops on an episode of the American version of The Office. 

Dan loves this show. 

He thinks about taking his headphones off and closing his laptop, too. But then he thinks about awkward silence with Phil making comments to him and how he'd be expected to reply so he just pauses his music instead and keeps his headphones in and tries his best not to laugh out loud at his favorite parts of the episode. 

* 

Phil falls asleep fast. 

He falls asleep with the lights and the television still on and his phone not even plugged in. Dan hesitates before getting up, hesitates before quietly shifting things around so he can plug Phil's phone in as well as his own. 

He leaves everything else of Phil's alone, though, just plugs his own laptop in and turns the television off and then hits the lights. 

*

The show is good. The venue is small but the crowd is fucking pumped. Dan can see them jumping and swaying. The lights splash around the stage in a way they rarely do, almost thrumming in time with the music. It's fast and hectic during songs that are and crawls to a swaying lull in the slower songs. Dan can't see what it looks like from the crowd's angle but he likes looking down and seeing his hands shifting hue in time with the press of the keys on his keyboard. 

The new songs go over well, too. It's always a relief to hear the screams of happiness after. By the time he lets his fingers rest, pushing his sweaty fringe back from his head and reaching down to guzzle from the plastic bottle of water by his foot, he's feeling that performance high. 

It doesn't fade for a few hours, not until they've hung around out back signing thumb drives and cds and giving hugs and taking pictures. He always feels like he's playing pretend during that part, like the people who are so excited to see him just don't really know who he is and if they did they'd realize not to give a fuck. 

But he'll take it while he can get it. 

*

They go for food after a show. They're always starving, taking over a table in a chip shop with the members of the band and Kurt and a few local roadies that helped them set up and take down, and a couple of girls the guys met the night before at the club they'd gone to. 

That's when Dan starts to come back into himself, somewhere between shoving a greasy chip into his mouth and hearing the sugary sweet laugh of a girl that definitely wants in Benny's pants that night. 

She'll probably end up there. Benny's a nice guy but he's the one that most regularly disappears with a girl after shows. 

It's not like Dan's uncomfortable with his friends having casual sex. 

It's more like he's uncomfortable with the fact that he doesn't have it and they're all aware that he goes back alone every night. Even Andy pulls once in a while. He can never resist bragging about it, still in that period of awe that people want to touch his dick. 

Dan gets it. In a theoretical sense. It's not like he doesn't want his dick touched. He touches his own dick all the time. All the times in the past he’s thought he wanted it touched it ended up not working out so well. Tears or punches or utter fear or some mixture of all three. 

He isn't even sure himself, and that's part of the problem. He knows what's worked and what hasn't worked. He knows most things haven’t worked. 

But the guys in the band, they don't know that. He knows they can't read his mind, they can't know his weird fucked up history with it, they don't know the sorts of looks his ex-girlfriend used to give him. They don't know the things he's locked away and buried deep in his mind. 

Sometimes he feels like they do, though. Like people can just look at him and every name he's ever been shouted is going to be scrawled in permanent ink on his forehead. 

He shoves another chip into his mouth. It sits heavy in his stomach when he swallows. He thinks he's finished eating. 

"I'm gonna head back," he says. 

No one hears him. For someone that had 'talks too much' written on every behavior report throughout school, he's got a strangely quiet voice in a setting like this. 

He pushes back from the table. 

"I'll go too," a voice says. 

Dan almost jumps. Apparently someone heard him after all. 

"Okay," he says, then awkwardly stands there waiting. 

Ant notices that, at least. He looks between them. The beer in his hand is almost empty and he was drinking all throughout the show too, so the overly loud cadence of his words isn't too surprising. "Heading out so soon, boys?" 

"Yeah," Phil says, smiling at him. 

"Cheers!" Jace tips the bottle to them. "Be ready to set sail at ten." 

Phil salutes. "Aye aye, captain." 

* 

They walk in silence for a few minutes before Phil says, "I hope you know where we're going, because I don't. I'm just following you." 

"What?" Dan asks. "Of course I know where we're going. Do you seriously not?" 

Phil chuckles. "I've got a shit sense of direction." 

"What if I'm taking you off somewhere to get murdered?" 

"Well, are you?" Phil asks. 

"I could be." 

"But then you'd have to explain it to the band," Phil points out. "And then go on the run." 

Dan just grunts. "Guess I won't, then. I'm too lazy to be on the run." 

Phil laughs. He laughs at a lot of Dan's stupid jokes. Dan tries not to like it. 

Mostly in school people just shouted at him to shut the fuck up. And then shouted other things. 

"Well, that's sorted, then." 

"What is?" 

"I don't have to worry about you murdering me. And you're definitely going back to the hotel room." Phil glances over at Dan. 

Dan sees him do it, but he doesn't look back. He does get distracted realizing that Phil's keeping pace with him perfectly. It's probably because they're the same height. Most people aren't; Dan can usually walk ahead of people when he wants to escape conversation. 

Which he does, right now. He thinks. Maybe. 

"You were good tonight," Phil says. "I like that solo you have in Waves." 

Warmth immediately surges in Dan's chest. It's one of his favorite songs he's ever written, sat on a beach in Brighton watching the sun come up during that first tour, and one of the few that he's actually put music of his own to before handing it over to Jace. He's glad the other guys liked the solo idea enough to work it into the song they crafted from his words. 

"Thanks," he says, realizing he's been silent for too long. 

"I liked doing the lights for that one best," Phil says, an additional confession. 

His voice seems softer somehow. Dan looks up and tries to find the moon just to have something to do with his eyes that isn't look at Phil again. 

"Seemed pretty," Dan says. 

All he'd really seen were the washes of blues and purples and greens and pinks. But he's not lying; it was pretty. 

"When we play Manchester I'll get my brother to let me record it," Phil says, voice brightening again with the idea. "Maybe Jace will want to put it up online or something." 

"What like, a professional recording?" Dan asks. 

"Yeah, I've got some equipment. I record gigs for them sometimes. Martyn's girlfriend is a musician and Martyn's a DJ so they let me make promo reels for them, and I edited a performance for Cornelia to sell on thumb drives." 

"Wow," Dan says. 

"It's not that hard," Phil says, sounding sheepish. "I did go to uni for it, though. Video production. Well, first I went for Linguistics. Then I stayed and got a masters in editing and production." 

"Voluntarily staying in uni?" Dan snorts. "Can't relate. I didn't even make it there to begin with."

"Does it bother you?" Phil asks, not what Dan was expecting. "You've mentioned that twice now." 

Dan feels abruptly exposed in a way he hates. He scowls at the ground, glad the hotel is in view now. "It's fine." 

He doesn't volunteer anything else, just speeds up until he's almost jogging away from Phil. 

Phil doesn't try to catch up. He lets Dan beat him to the building and then follows Dan up the stairs without trying to bring it up again. 

*

Dan showers and when he comes out, Phil's put The Office on again. 

"My turn!" Phil says, grabbing his toiletries bag - and clothes this time - before disappearing into a bathroom still steaming from the hot water Dan let slam into his body for probably too many minutes. 

The tv is still on. Dan doesn't bother putting his headphones in. He pulls out his laptop and checks twitter just enough to soothe his ego with all the mentions from fans at the show, then he shuts it and contemplates his options. He can't roll onto his left side because then he'll see Phil as soon as Phil comes out of the shower and he can't roll to his right side because when he'll be facing Phil when Phil gets in bed. 

So he lies on his back and stares up and for reasons he can't even put into words, then pretends to already be asleep when Phil comes out. 

*

Jace isn’t a bad guy, Dan thinks. None of them are. 

They’re on date four of the tour and someone’s feeding them before the show. That happens a lot, fans or followers or just someone’s friend of a friend inviting them for a hang and plying them with food and booze. 

Today they’re all sat around a living room, taking turns telling tales of teenage years that make Dan feel awkward that he’s still in his. Andy doesn’t seem as insecure, or maybe he just hides it better as he offers color commentary on everyone else’s escapades. 

Phil doesn’t have too many stories, but he does tell one about a uni housemate he had that decided mixing vodka and mouthwash would taste good. No one makes a big deal about Dan staying quiet. They don’t make a fuss at all when he just sits staring at someone else’s family portraits above the mantle and half-listens to what they’re talking about. 

He realizes, on some level, that his bar is low. The guys in the band aren’t throwing punches or slinging insults at him, so they must be nice guys, right? 

They keep him around. They give him a way out of Wokingham. They accept that he’s quiet and weird and a bit moody. He knows he has value to them, and that means a lot. 

So does he really need to have things in common with them, too? 

Jace is talking about a wild acid trip he went on when he was around Dan’s age and he’s laughing loudly at things Dan’s struggling to find even objectively humorous.

Maybe it’s because he’s just not as cool as they are. He went to his share of parties and shit during school, but acid wasn’t something that really circulated with his wanna be cool kids group of so-called friends. 

Someone like Jace would have scared the shit out of them. Maybe that makes Dan a bit proud, but it doesn’t make him any less _lonely_. 

He laughs in the right places and smiles like everyone else when Jace finishes the story, swallowing back lukewarm beer and wondering how long until it’s not rude to get up and walk away. 

*

Dan’s not having a very good day. 

He’s fucking exhausted, and he knows that’s at the heart of it. Too many hours crammed into the van, sore muscles from having to load and unload equipment, and nights where his thoughts just won’t stop. 

He went out the night before and drank more than he should have. He thought the alcohol might help him sleep but all it really did was leave him with a lingering hangover that adds to his misery. 

When the show is over, he feels nothing but relief. His temples are pounding and his stomach is a queasy sort of hungry because he hadn’t had any food earlier that morning and his stomach is always too nervous just before a show.

All he wants to do is sleep but the rest of the guys want to go out again and Dan thinks, even though he hasn’t had any meals, maybe he’ll just crawl in bed and hope unconsciousness comes fast. 

Until Phil says, “Anyone hungry?” 

He opens his mouth, then shuts it and listens as the rest of the guys talk about how they’re going to just get food at the bar. They’ll have a longer drive tomorrow and it’s alright midnight, their nighttime hours are short. 

Phil looks disappointed when no one says yes, but his eyes land exactly where Dan didn’t want them to. “What about you?” He asks. “Are you going out? Do you want to get something to eat?” 

“Sure,” Dan says, forcing himself to go against his instinct when his stomach starts to pang. “Food sounds good.” 

They find a kebab place, cheap enough and open late. The second the smell of warm spices hits his nose, his mouth is watering. 

“What’s all that?” Phil asks, looking at Dan once they sit down. 

Dan’s got a naan kebab with chicken and in front of him, six little cups. “Chili, yoghurt, garlic, barbecue, ketchup, and piri piri.”

Phil squints his eyes. “Did you get every sauce they had?” 

“Yep,” Dan says, licking a bit of the chili sauce off his finger. “What of it?” 

Phil just laughs. “You’re so strange.” 

“Excuse me?” Dan asks. “You’re the one that wouldn’t eat his burger yesterday because they put cheese on it.” 

“You noticed that?” Phil asks, suddenly turning bashful. 

“An entire burger sitting untouched on your plate? Yeah, mate, I noticed it.” Dan takes a bite. He could cry at how good it is. “Why didn’t you just send it back?” 

Phil shrugs. “They were busy. I didn’t want to make a fuss, or get anyone in trouble.” 

“You’re a nicer person than I am,” Dan says. “That burger looked good.” 

“I should have just given it to you,” Phil says. “Next time I will.” 

Dan eyes Phil’s kebab. “I wouldn’t complain if they fucked that up.” 

Phil holds up his fork in a threatening, stabby way. “Don’t even try it, mister.”

“Fine, fine,” Dan grumbles, trying not to smile. 

They don’t talk much while they eat. 

It’s… nice. 

Phil is nice. 

They’ve only known each other a couple months, but he’s never been anything but nice. Maybe it’s the food-induced euphoria, maybe it’s that he knows he’s sharing a hotel room with Andy and not Phil tonight, but Dan suddenly doesn’t mind admitting that to himself. Of all the people he bumps up against more days than not, Phil is the one that fits best into his space. 

It’s weird to just let himself think that, but even someone as eaten through with self-hatred as he is lets a warm thought in once in a while. 

Maybe Phil _is_ the warm thought. 

When Phil’s done, he sits back and yawns massively, then stretches his hands over his head. “Thanks for keeping me company,” he says. “I hate eating alone.” 

Dan half-shrugs. He doesn’t really think he was doing Phil any favors, he came because he wanted food, too. But it’s sort of nice how Phil thinks he’s good company. 

“I don’t mind it,” Dan says. “I ate alone a lot in school.” 

“I always had friends with me.” Phil sounds wistful. “I miss my school friends, they were great. I was definitely the weirdest and dorkiest but they liked me.” 

“Can’t relate.” Dan’s voice is dry. He stares down at his mostly emptied plate. 

“Oh,” Phil says. “Well, that’s crap.” 

He sounds so matter of fact about it that Dan almost laughs. There’s no fake sincerity, no nosy questions. Just a blunt kind of truth that Dan can’t really argue with. It was crap. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Thanks.” 

Phil smiles at him. “At least loads of people love you now?” 

Dan’s smile fades a bit. Phil’s not wrong, but Dan’s not really sure how to explain that he hasn’t yet discovered a level of popularity with the people that like his music that drowns out all the awful things haunting him from every phase of his life before this. He’s not sure if one even exists because deep down he knows that the people that listen to his music and like it still don’t know him. The songs he writes have a personal meaning for himself that he knows, but he also knows everyone else reads their own personal messages into it. They see themselves in him more than they really see _him_. Screaming crowds appeases a level of ego that’s enjoyable enough but he’s very capable of feeling alone in a crowded room. 

“Ready to go?” he asks, grabbing his phone and ignoring the disappointment on Phil’s face. 

*

They drive three hours out of their way to attend a festival on the weekend. 

It means no show the day before or the day after. The rest of the band wants to enjoy the festival, and Phil’s close to home so he’s going to visit his parents. 

Dan had been excited about the festival. Festivals are one of the few things he truly remembers enjoying about college, the way he could just get lost in a crowd of people joyfully singing along like some massive auditory orgy of pure pleasure and immersion. 

But some time between crawling into scratchy hotel sheets at one am after a show and waking to the harsh beeping of his phone alarm, his body betrays him. He wakes feeling like a truck snuck into the hotel room and ran right over him, aching and sweating and generally wanting to not exist. 

He manages to get up and get dressed, though he's fairly sure the shirt he puts on is dirty. He doesn't do anything to his hair, not even caring that it's a half-curled mess right now. 

He's the last one to show up. Andy slaps him on the shoulder and asks if he got a head start on the drinking. 

Phil is the only one that shows concern, waiting until everyone else is arguing over GPS routes to quietly ask, "Are you alright, Dan?" 

Dan shrugs. He feels like even talking would use energy he's not sure he can afford to expend. 

Phil's frown deepens. "Are you sure you actually want to go to this festival?" 

"No," Dan says, because apparently being poorly erases his filter. "I feel like utter shit. Put me out of my misery." 

"Aw." Phil awkwardly pats Dan on the arm. "I can't do that, but-" 

"What?" Dan asks, because Phil just stopped talking abruptly. 

"I mean. You could... come with me? My mum and dad wouldn't mind, and you could just sleep for a while?" He's so hesitant considering what he's offering Dan sounds like actual heaven. 

But Dan still hesitates. Sleeping in a stranger’s house doesn't seem as odd when it's with the whole rest of the band, but just him? He's not sure. 

"Alright!" Benny turns and announces. "Two hours drive and we'll make it in time for Black Eyed Peas. Mosh pit, fuckers!" 

A woman passing by gives them a dirty look. 

Dan thinks about actually standing in a mosh pit for hours, or standing anywhere for hours, and looks at Phil. "Alright, I'm down." 

*

"You definitely have a fever," Phil says. "I can feel how hot you are even from here." 

They're sat arm to arm on a tube seat. Phil keeps looking at Dan like he's afraid Dan's going to pass right out. 

Dan would love to reassure him, but fighting through the tube station depleted him. All he can muster is a, "Yeah," to confirm Phil's suspicion. 

He closes his eyes and he just means to rest them a bit but he doesn't open them again until Phil shakes him. "Dan. Dan. Our stop is next." 

Dan blinks and then sits up. He feels groggy and disgusting, somehow moreso than before. "Okay," he says, and he knows he sounds out of it. 

He grabs his backpack and his suitcase and follows Phil. Halfway through he realizes Phil has a hand on Dan's arm guiding him. The pressure is nice, he actually likes that quite a bit. He opens his mouth to say it but some bit of actual sense makes him close it again. 

*

Phil's mum picks them up from the train station. 

Dan does manage a moment to be purely mortified that he's meeting someone for the first time looking and feeling as he does, but as soon as he's in the back seat of the car he's struggling to keep his eyes open again. 

He hears Phil distantly explaining that Dan's in the band with him and he's feeling poorly today, but nothing else. 

* 

Phil's family lives in a big house atop a small hill. It's big enough that it could at least two of Dan's childhood home in it, which isn't saying all that much since his childhood home wasn't very big to begin with. 

"Nice house," he mumbles, trying to pretend like he's a human as he grabs his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. 

"Oh, thank you, dear!" Phil's mum says. "We built it just after Phil was born." 

He's sure Phil introduced them and told Dan her name but he can't remember. 

"It's the only home I've ever known," Phil says, in a cheesy voice. He's talking to his mum, not Dan, and Dan's glad. 

Inside, Phil takes Dan's bags and disappears. Phil's mum - Kath, Dan remembers suddenly - disappears to and Dan has a moment of incoherent distress at being left all alone in a strange room of a strange house. But then Phil is back and Kath is back and both of them have things for him - Kath some thick, goopy, foul tasting medicine and Phil a couple of tablets and then a glass of Ribena to wash it down. 

Dan hadn't realized how thirsty he was until the last drops are sliding down his throat. 

"Thanks," he says. 

He'd like more, actually, but he doesn't want to ask. He's concentrating so hard on not asking that he doesn't hear them talking to him until Kath touches his forehead with the back of his hand. "Oh, you poor boy," she says, tutting. "Do you think you need a visit to the doctor?" 

"No," Dan says immediately. "I think I just need to sleep." 

She frowns like she wants to argue but then nods. "Phil, will you show him upstairs?" 

"Sure, mum," Phil says easily, eyes not leaving Dan. 

*

Dan sleeps for thirteen hours, waking up once to take more medicine Phil brings him and to have a wee. He only remembers it vaguely and he has no idea what time that even was. 

He can tell that it's night when he opens his eyes again. There's light in the room but it's coming from the hallway, through the half open door. Outside the window is just inky dark, stars covered by clouds. 

He still feels disgusting and even sweatier now than before. He blinks his eyes a few times and swallows, feeling parched, then yelps at the face staring back down at him. 

It's a blonde actress, someone Dan vaguely recognizes from a show he must have seen a few episodes of. "Fucking hell," he mutters, voice gravelly. 

A wave of dizziness hits him when he sits up. He swallows and it hurts. He desperately wants water. Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, he takes a moment to gather himself. He looks at the wardrobe beside him and sees pictures taped up on the door - Phil is in a few of them. 

He's not surprised that this is Phil's bedroom, though he feels like he just learned something he didn't need to know by the positioning of that poster. Of course Phil likes blondes. Blondes with tits. 

Dan gets to his feet. He's still wearing the clothes he arrived in, jeans and all. He’s not wearing shoes and he can’t remember taking them off inside the door but he's going to assume he did so he doesn't have to think about Phil doing it for him. 

He walks into the hallway and blinks, completely lost. A few more steps reveal a staircase and he decides that's a good enough place to start. He holds onto the hand rail as he takes one step after another. 

He stops three stairs from the bottom, because he hears voices. He can't see the people speaking so they must be in a room just off of the hall the stairs lead down into.

It's Phil, and... Phil's mum? 

Dan's always been nosier than he should be. Instead of finishing his trip downstairs, he stops there and listens. 

"-fetch some more Lemsip at least in the morning." 

"I will, I will," Phil says. "You can give me a list." 

"Have to take care of your boy," Kath says, obviously teasing. 

Dan will blame how ill he feels on the fact that he doesn't at all get it. Not even when Phil responds with a whine. "Mum! I told you it's not like that." 

"I'm just saying..." Kath's voice lilts up. "You've not brought a fellow home to meet us in ages." 

"And I'm not now." Phil groans. "Dan's not even gay. I don't think." 

Dan's knees definitely buckle. It's an embarrassing reaction, but it is what it is. 

"Well, if he's not, then I've got the number to my friend Dorothy's son, he's a hairdresser-" 

"Please tell me you're not assuming he's gay because he's a hairdresser, Mum." Phil sounds pained. 

"Of course not," she says. "That'd be stereotyping, and stereotypes are wrong. I'm assuming he's gay because he had a fiance who was a man last year, but he got left a month before the wedding and he's been utterly heartbroken since." 

"Mum. Please stop trying to set me up with every available guy you meet." 

"It's just a phone number!" she says. 

Dan turns and walks back upstairs. He ends up drinking from the bathroom tap using his cupped hands to sip from. He splashes water on his face after that and then, unsure what else to do, goes back and gets into Phil's bed again. 

*

When he wakes in the morning he feels about a hundred and fifty percent better than the day before, which means he still actually feels like shit but he can at least be a functional human being. 

Phil pops his head in the doorway once he hears Dan stirring. "Hi!" he says, looking bright and cheerful and more in his element than Dan's ever seen him. "Do you need more medicine?" 

"Um. Maybe," Dan says. "Paracetamol, at least? I have a headache but I don't know if it's from being ill or how long I slept." 

"Yeah, I bet," Phil says. "You basically slept the whole day. You must have really needed it." 

"Dunno where that came from." Dan sits up slowly, rubbing his face. "I could use a shower, actually." 

"No, sorry," Phil says. "We don't allow those here." 

Dan blinks at him until Phil bursts into laughter. 

"Oh, fuck off," Dan grumbles, smiling just a bit. 

And that's when the memory of the conversation he heard the night before resurfaces, as abruptly and shockingly as a punch to the gut. 

His face must do something strange because Phil frowns and says, "Are you alright?" 

"What? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. Just - yea. Need a shower." 

"And some food, I bet," Phil says. "Mum's gonna cook us a big breakfast. I wasn't sure what you liked but I told her just make everything." 

Dan isn't even sure if he's hungry or not, but he's lightheaded when he stands up so he can acknowledge that Phil may have a point. "Shower... then food." 

"Deal," Phil says. 

Dan pretends like he doesn't know where the bathroom is and lets Phil show him the way. 

* 

Phil's mum has an entire spread out and she fills Dan's plate more full than he could ever hope to eat, watching over him like a hawk. 

He does find his appetite somewhere between his second piece of toast and the last bite of sausage, and finishes enough to satisfy her. 

"I feel loads better," he says, scrubbing his fingers through his hair. "I can't believe I slept that much. I'm the worst guest ever." 

"Nonsense," Kath says. "I've got be going now, though - Phil, you'll be gone before I get back?" 

"Maybe," Phil says. "We might stay longer, though. I got my washing done but I thought Dan might want to do his as well." 

“Yeah, actually,” Dan says. “That’d be good.” 

His bag is perpetually half full of dirty clothes and any opportunity to start with everything clean is a beautiful one. Kath says goodbye to them and tells Dan she hopes he feels better, and then he’s left alone with Phil. 

Phil - who is gay. 

Dan’s stomach squirms just thinking about it. He can’t tell if it’s a good kind of squirmy or a bad kind. 

It’s usually bad when he’s thinking about - this. Boys. Boys who like boys. It usually means someone’s hitting him or calling him names, or it’s a shady secret thing he feels like he’s getting away with. 

Not that he does that anymore. He left that behind when he started the band. Fresh start, no reason for anyone to hate him.

Except Phil isn’t going to throw any punches and Phil doesn’t look like a person who feels like he has a reason to be shady and secret. Phil just looks happy and bright eyed sitting in the kitchen of his family home eating his eggs with Dan. 

*

One thing being on the road has taught Dan is the art of doing laundry as quickly and efficiently as possible. 

He dumps every bit of clothing he owns into the machine, adds what he’s sure is enough laundry soap to wash it all, and then turns it on cold and lets it go. 

When he walks back into the lounge Phil is already sorting through his clothes, sat surrounded by a few baskets. The television is on playing a movie with the sound down low. 

Dan rubs his palms against the sweatpants he’d changed into. Why is he so fucking nervous? Phil isn’t that scary. 

But maybe knowledge is. 

“Where’s the rest of your family?” He asks. 

Phil looks up. Dan can’t get over how at ease Phil is here. He hadn’t even realized the slightly nervous energy Phil carried with him everywhere else. “My brother Martyn lives in London and my dad’s at work. He was up earlier, but you missed him.” 

Dan isn’t too sad about that. Dads have never been his strong point. He’s good with mums, usually, and definitely with grandmas. 

“You guys are close, I guess?” Dan asks, looking at all the framed photos. The most amusing thing is how Phil’s hair color has changed over the years. 

He definitely prefers it as it is now, a really nice looking blue-black. 

His eyes linger on it, on Phil. 

He’s got a nice face. 

Not that Dan is _noticing_. 

Because he doesn’t do that. 

*

Phil’s mum comes home about an hour before they leave. They’ve both got all their clothes washed and dried and they’ve just been lounging on the sofa, Phil watching television or playing video games while Dan mostly napped. 

He’s still not feeling entirely himself but just getting to relax and sleep and not be bounced from place to place, never entirely sure what comes next, probably helps a lot. He’s human enough for actual conversation and to thank Kath profusely, for the medicine and the food that morning and also the food she plies them with before she drives them into Manchester to the train station. 

*

The train back to where the rest of the band is at only takes an hour, but it may be the most nerve wracking hour Dan’s ever spent. It’s a fairly full car so they sit squished side by side and every time Phil talks Dan hears his voice so up close. 

He wonders if he can blame being poorly on the shivers that happen every time Phil whispers to him. He thinks he probably can but he’s not sure if he really needs to, because Phil isn’t quite like any person Dan’s ever met before and if Dan were braver he might call this feeling he’s currently feeling safety. 

*

Dan feels recovered enough from his brush with basically-worse-than-death to play their next show.

It's a good one. It's actually a really good one; the sort of show where the vibe is just right in a way that's hard to even describe with words. The crowd is feeling it, singing along with the songs. Everyone is top of their game with their instruments. The lighting is dazzling, the equipment Phil has to work with clearly to his liking. 

The DJ that's meant to follow them is a no show so they play an hour later than they'd planned, taking shouted requests from the crowd. Dan's laughing and generally remembering why the fuck he loves this so much, and maybe that's why when the rest of the guys say they're gonna stay and drink he does too. 

"You're staying?" Phil asks, clearly surprised. 

"Yeah." Dan shrugs. "Why not?" 

"I guess I will too, then," Phil says, beaming over at Dan. 

Dan's mind starts to spin. He wonders if Phil's staying because of him or if Phil just doesn't want to be the only one to go back to the hotel? They're not sharing a room tonight so it can't be just that, can it? 

Thinking too much about it does his head in, so he goes to get a drink instead. 

* 

He has more than a drink. He has a few, actually, because the crowd really liked their music and people really want to buy his drinks for him. 

It's probably a bad idea since he's been on cold medicine so recently but he enjoys the feeling of not really feeling anything except floaty and nice. 

Until he sees Phil on the dance floor and suddenly he is feeling other things. 

One of those things is... brave. 

* 

He dances with a few other people first, not because he means to but because it's hard to make his way across the floor and people mistake his pressing through the crowd for pressing into them. 

He loses sight of Phil a few times, too, but then he recognizes the back of him - the blue plaid flannel shirt he'd been wearing earlier is no longer on but Dan recognizes the black hair and the shape of his shoulders. 

He steps in behind Phil with his heart pounding. He knows fully and completely that he wouldn't be doing this if he weren't drunk but he rests his hands on Phil's hips and leans in close. 

Phil turns and there's surprise evident on his face when he sees it's Dan. He tilts his head at first like he thinks Dan just wants to tell him something but Dan squeezes Phil's hips with his hands and slides a thigh between Phil's legs. 

Phil's mouth makes a perfect o shape and his eyes are wide and full of questions. 

Dan looks at him like it's a question he's posing with his eyes and Phil slowly smiles back, reaching up and draping his arms over Dan's shoulders as he closes what little space was there between them to begin with. 

* 

Dan loses track totally of how long they dance. It's probably not that long, all told; Dan's just out of practice with this. The most exercise he ever gets is hauling their equipment on and off stage and even that he’s happy to give over to any of the growing number of groupies and roadies that show up at every venue. 

He feels sweaty and loose and maybe he'll be sore tomorrow but that's fine. That's worth it. Phil doesn't take his hands off Dan and Dan doesn't take his hands off Phil and it doesn't matter what song is playing, they're just moving to music of their own. 

Mostly because Phil is uncoordinated as fuck and seems actually incapable of moving to the music that is playing. But Dan wants to think that part of the feeling just comes from something magic in the air. 

Phil leans in far sooner than Dan would like and whisper-shouts in his ear, "I need some air!" 

Dan immediately starts to panic that Phil's just making an excuse to get away from him, but then Phil's fingers tangle in his and tug and he realizes Phil wants Dan to follow him out. 

* 

They're walking somewhere. 

Dan doesn't know where. They don't even really talk to begin with. They're just holding hands and walking and being quiet. Dan’s head is still spinning. He’s definitely still drunk. 

Then Phil blurts out, "I didn't even know you liked boys." 

Dan shrugs. "I do." 

"And... me?" Phil's voice goes a bit squeaky. 

Dan shrugs again. He's afraid to look up. "If that's okay?" 

"Why would that not be okay?" Phil sounds incredulous. 

Dan looks up. "I dunno. Because I'm weird and bitchy and emo and younger than you and-" 

"Dan. Dan." Phil shuts him down. "Are you freaking kidding me?" 

A frown flickers over Dan's face. "What?" 

"You're like, the coolest person in this band." 

"I am fucking not," Dan says, almost angry over the compliment. 

"You so are! You're the only person I actually like hanging out with, anyway. I just wanted to be your friend, I didn't even think... I mean, of course I fancy you, I just didn't think I had a chance." 

"You do not." Dan's voice is weaker this time. 

"I don't think I'd have even stayed if not for you. I'm - you're not allowed to make fun of me for saying this later, okay? But it's true. The only time I like clubs and going out is when I'm in the production booth, and I'd rather spend the night watching television and making fun of it with someone if I have a choice. I get motion sickness in cars and I miss my mum way too much when I'm home and I need lots of time to decompress. So if I didn't have you around to keep me company and make me feel not so weird... I think I'd have decided really early on that being in a band wasn't for me. But... you make it fun, Dan." 

Dan's heart is doing really strange things, like flipping upside down and bouncing all around in his chest. "I think you're so fit," he says. 

It's not exactly what he meant to say but it makes Phil laugh and his eyes crinkle in the corners and that feels so, so good. 

He's not surprised at all when Phil leans in and kisses him. 

He is surprised at the noise he hears behind him. He jerks away hard, spinning around. He’s not sure what he expects to see; someone ready to beat them to a bloody pulp, a look of disgust. 

It’s just a stray cat, but his heart is pounding. 

“Dan?” Phil asks, concerned. “What is it?” 

“I-” Dan stops. His mouth is dry suddenly. He can’t breathe right. “I just.” 

“It’s okay.” Phil squeezes his hand. He sounds even more worried now. “Are you going to be sick?” 

“No,” Dan says, because he doesn’t know how to say he’s on the verge of a panic attack from the idea that someone just saw him kissing a boy. “I’m sorry. This is...” 

“It’s okay,” Phil says, softly in a voice Dan can’t read. “Let’s just go back to the hotel.” 

* 

They finish walking back to the hotel. Their rooms are opposite each other and they stand in the hallway awkwardly. 

Dan has calmed down. It wasn’t a full on panic attack or anything. He just got… scared. 

Really fucking scared. Because this is scary. 

But Phil still looks safe and Dan’s does still want to kiss him. 

So he does. He fists his hand in the front of Phil’s shirt and leans in for a short, hard kiss. “I’m a mess,” he says, part explanation and party apology and part warning. 

Phil looks surprised. “Okay,” he says. “I like messes. That’s what my teachers in school always put on my reports home. Phil is attracted to messes.”

Dan laughs and even though he isn’t sure if Phil is really informed enough about what specific kind of mess Dan is to actually say that, it makes him happy. 

* 

In the morning, he's somehow not hungover but the alcohol helped him sleep well and the main thought he has is that he’s very, very hungry. He wants breakfast - not a bagel from a free hotel breakfast or a stale muffin from the shop next door. He wants real food. 

And he doesn’t want to get it alone. So he spends too long getting dressed to the background soundtrack of Benny snoring in the other bed and when his hair is straightened and he's in a t-shirt that still smells like Phil's mum's detergent, he grabs his phone and sends a text. 

* 

Phil meets him outside ten minutes later. 

He looks like he's just woken up. His socks are mismatched and he clearly hasn't shaved but his eyes go bright and happy when he sees Dan. 

"Is anyone else coming?" he asks. 

Dan shakes his head. "Not unless you want to invite them. Thought it could just be us?" 

Phil looks even happier. "No, I really don't." 

*

"Is this a date?" Phil asks, about four bites into his massive stack of pancakes. 

"Do you want it to be?" 

"Yeah," Phil says. “I didn’t know if you’d want it to be.”

It's weird how this is the best egg sandwich Dan has ever had. “I do,” Dan says. “But I just… look, I’m kind of fucked up, okay?” 

“You said that last night. That you’re a mess.” Phil wipes some syrup off his chin. He doesn’t entirely get it all. 

“I’ve just got a lot of issues. And I’ve never like… dated a guy.” 

“Oh.” Phil frowns slightly. “Have you ever… I mean, was that your first…” 

Dan shakes his head. “I’ve done some stuff. You’re not my sexual awakening or anything, don’t worry. That happened back in year eight. But I just have a lot of shit to work out and I might be weird about it. I might… not want people to know, for a while?” 

“That’s okay,” Phil says immediately. “I wasn’t really planning on telling any of the guys in the band anyway. I’m out to the people that really know me - like, my friends and family all know. I told my parents after uni, just because I was tired of feeling like I was lying to them about something that was so big. But it’s not always safe, and… I guess I just try to be careful. So if you want we can take it slow and we can be careful, too.” 

Dan can’t believe the level of relief he feels considering what this amounts to is agreeing to have a secret relationship with someone he sees every single day. But somewhere along the path of the last couple of days he’s realized that he doesn’t want to let his fear destroy something that might actually be good. 

Or it might be a total disaster. He doesn’t have any way of really knowing. He’ll just have to trust his gut this time, and maybe trust Phil. “Careful. Careful sounds good.”

*

He'd actually like nothing better than to spend all day with Phil exploring this thing they're starting and maybe stealing another (and another and another) kiss but they happen to be in a band that happens to always be on the move. 

Another town tonight, another show, another club. The most they get is sitting together in the back, poking each other and sharting flirty looks and Dan trying to distract Phil from the queasy rolling of Phil’s stomach after one too many large curves. 

The show is good. It’s not the magic of the night before, but it’s still good. They don't stay late after this one. The guys are all excited because they're crashing at a house instead of a hotel and this house happens to have a hot tub. Half a dozen women who magically have swim costumes with them all materialize on the arms of various band members and Dan’s sure it has the makings of another one of those tawdry nights he usually sits firmly out on. 

Maybe he’ll get a little tawdry himself tonight, though. He knows he’s destined to be an emotional basket case at one point or another but right now he’s coasting on a serotonin boost and he’s nineteen and someone he’s very attracted to keeps making eyes at him. 

Dan's so distracted wondering how to swing it so that he and Phil get to stay in the same room that he misses Phil taking his shirt off until after it's already happened and he's watching Phil climb into the bubbling water in just his pants. 

"Come on," Phil says, looking right at Dan. "You're going to get in, aren't you?" 

Dan's mouth goes dry. "Wasn't planning on it." 

Phil pokes his lip out. 

Fuck. Maybe he's already got Dan whipped. All that repression doesn't stand a chance against one interested party, apparently. 

Then again, has it ever? Repression is a solitary hobby. That’s how he’s ended up with every morning-after regret he’s ever had. 

"Fine," he says. "But I need to go put my stuff down first." 

"Oh." Phil grins. "I claimed the second bedroom upstairs for us." 

Dan flushes and he wonders if anyone is listening to them and he wonders if anyone would care if they are listening. Mostly to escape the need to stare around the room and check, he goes upstairs and changes clothes into a swim costume. 

*

The water is so hot he hisses when he sticks a foot in, but that hiss turns into a throaty pleased noise as he sinks all the way down. "Fuck, this is amazing." 

"Yeah..." Phil sounds distracted and Dan doesn't need to open his eyes to know he's being stared at. 

He's very glad that people keep moving in and out, leaving gaps. It makes it look more natural when he sits closer to Phil than anyone else. It's a very large hot tub and he's got Phil close in on one side but a couple feet between himself and Jace on the other. 

Jace doesn't seem to have even registered his presence. He's too busy putting the moves on one of the girls that's been invited over for the unofficial show afterparty. 

"I want one of these," Phil says, leaning back. 

Dan stares at the paleness of his skin and the flush creeping up his neck. He can just barely see Phil's nipples and the chest hair flattened to his skin by the heat. Dan suddenly, desperately wants to lick those nipples. 

He tilts his face up to the ceiling just to avoid everyone else being able to read what he's sure is written on his face. 

Maybe too well. He’d actually like for Phil to see what’s on his face and maybe do something about it. 

But Phil doesn’t. They spend twenty minutes talking and teasing and Phil’s certainly _looking_ , there’s no way Dan could miss that. But he doesn’t touch Dan at all and Dan realizes with a pleasant lurch that Phil must be waiting on Dan to make the first move. 

Part of Dan is so bowled over by the thoughtfulness that he could cry. Part of Dan is annoyed at Phil and at himself for not catching on sooner. He doesn’t actually _want_ to be sat here with so many people around them. What he wants is to get Phil alone. 

So maybe it’s on him, and maybe that’s a good thing because he has to wait so long that he knows there isn’t a single ounce of doubt in his mind at how much he wants this when he reaches over and puts his hand on Phil’s leg a few inches above the knee. 

Phil goes tense right away, muscle firming under Dan’s touch. He glances over just to make sure Phil is okay with this, though he doesn’t really need to. Phil is already offering confirmation himself, putting his hand over Dan’s and sliding it up his thigh. 

*

They don't stay in the hot tub much longer, too impatient trading daring touches and Dan too nervous that someone will see. 

When Phil nods his head toward the house, Dan nods sharply once. Phil says out loud he's hungry and wants to know if there's pizza left. Dan gets up to follow him without saying anything at all.

No one cares. Jace is already tonsil inspecting the girl he's with and the rest of the people are engaged in a conversation about the latest Marvel movie. Dan might actually enjoy that any other time but now he's watching water droplets roll down between Phil's shoulderblades and reconsidering his lack of belief in a God. 

*

Dan's fooled around with guys a few times before. Making out and dry humping and clumsy handjobs when he was fifteen and partying with his emo friends - and more his last year of school, when he and his girlfriend both knew it was over and hadn't spoken in weeks. Blowjobs at parties that left his knees aching and his throat sore. Actual proper sex once, in someone's uni halls room when he went to visit one of his friends after they'd already moved away for school. 

It was fine. It was okay. Too fast and a little sloppy and he lost his erection halfway through but got it back for a blowjob after. That guy hadn’t been awful, he hadn’t hurt Dan, hadn’t used him. But he hadn’t been anyone Dan wanted to hang around for. It hadn’t been anything like this. 

Phil’s kissing him as soon as the door shuts behind him. He hears a sound like a click and realizes that it’s the door locking and he’s relieved because it means he isn’t afraid at all when he puts his hands on Phil’s face and kisses him back, mouth open and tongue searching. He feels greedy and needy and desperate in a maybe embarrassing way, making noises into the kiss. 

Phil makes noises back, though, and his hands are just as needy and greedy as Dan’s are. He cups Dan’s ass where the wet pants are molded to him and pushes their hips together.

It's not much more than what he was doing at fifteen but somehow it's still so much more than he's ever done before. He pushes Phil against the bed and Phil goes, laughing as his back hits the mattress. “Hey!” he says. 

“Hey,” Dan says back, kneeling above him. “I fancy you.” 

Phil giggles. 

It may be the cutest fucking thing Dan has ever heard. 

Neither of them have edgy emo band member cred right now. They’re too busy grinning like idiots at each other. Dan doesn’t give a fuck. 

He looks down at Phil, at the shape under those sodden blue and green boxer briefs. He’ll have to tease Phil later about his obsession with those colors, some time when he’s not drooling over the thickness of his cock against the fabric. 

It twitches under Dan’s watch and Dan barely bites back a whimper. He reaches out and touches and Phil _does_ whimper then. 

“I want to touch you,” Dan says. 

“You already are,” Phil says. 

“You dick.” Dan giggles this time. “You know what I meant.” 

“I know,” Phil says. “Do it, please?” 

Then Dan’s pushing Phil’s pants down and wrapping his fingers around a thick, pretty cock that fits in his hand just perfectly. He starts to wank Phil and Phil’s breathing hard and fast almost immediately. 

He looks so lovely that Dan just has to kiss him again, and while he’s distracted with Phil’s mouth Phil gets a hand on him too. 

* 

When they're finished rolling in the sheets, when Dan’s arm aches and he's got come splashed across his fingers, when Phil's mouth is slowing against his own and they're both regaining their breath, he feels waves of emotions that he hadn't even known could feel this nice. 

They wipe clean with the still damp pants and then curl up naked in someone else’s bed. It’s warm and Phil smells nice - a little sweaty, a bit like sex - and Dan has never, ever been held like this while he’s fallen asleep.

Maybe he’ll tell Phil that later but a bit of buried self-preservation holds him back from exposing every vulnerability he has. Instead he tips his face up and he doesn’t even have to move that far before Phil is kissing him back. They make out like that, soft and sweet and cast in the afterglow, until their mouths are barely moving and then Phil is breathing even and deep. 

Dan stays up for a while after that. It’s not the insomnia of a tortured person, just a fear that if he does sleep he’ll wake up and this will never have happened. 

He wants this. He wants it to be real. 

He wants to get over his shit. Even if it isn’t easy - fuck it, he thinks. He’ll just write some songs about it. That always helps him get through.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my amazing and very patient beta reader sarah/waveydnp <3 
> 
> [read and reblog here on tumblr!](https://alittledizzy.tumblr.com/post/189998224615/ink-and-alice-danphil-rated-e-dan-joins-a-band)
> 
> check out [the amazing moodboard](https://midnightradio.tumblr.com/post/617641784244355072/ink-and-alice-by-alittledizzy-happy-birthday) for this fic made by midnightradio!


End file.
